When death becomes the Savior, when Void becomes the Sun.
When ashes turn to pyres and every bond is gone...
When words become a hammer, when unity is ruined.
Death becomes the Prophet. Void becomes the God.

Gazing into my own eyes as I crucify myself.
Tearing wrists from bone to escape the armature only to be nailed to it once again...

Traversing the labyrinth of everlasting wisdom – Γνώσης of the Black Sun.
Struggling, striving, endeavouring to grasp perfection that cannot be found.

Formless, yet possessing all silhouettes at Thy behest.
All power resides within Thee and Thy infinite permutations.
Searching for the Obsidian Sphere...
Shapeless architect of corruption, You reside within us all

6. From the Virulent Entrails of the Virus Christ (6:12)

From the virulent entrails of the Virus Christ, I emerge –
Regal and victorious in my utmost morbid splendour.
Bandaged in the divine innards of entropy.
To reign over thee with abject terror and immense malicious lust.

The cancer can never be cured.
The cancer can never be cured.
The cancer can never be cured.
The cancer can never be cured.

To defend my own banner of victorious ruin, I emerge from the entrails of the Virus Christ –
Virulent yet regal as they are.
Emblazoned in viscera and shrouded in the serpentine bowels of Τετραγράμματον...

Gaping wounds that never heal.

The pillars fall in slow motion as I curse the Demiurge.
The walls of flesh, penetrated.
Destroying the creation of God...
Again and again.

So now take the bread that is my flesh.
And drink the bitter wine of disdain.
Let my essence flow through you...
Evangelising hate....

To be drenched in the blackening blood of hanging rotten animals.
And to be embellished with the jewels of their skeletal remains.
To be crowned in barbed wire thorns and bathed in broken glass,
With the acrid stench of urine as a halo...